Broken Hearts

At 8:30 this morning, a woman in my congregation received the phone call we had been praying for:  that a desperately needed heart had become available for her husband.  They are preparing him now for this transplant which could add many years to his full life.  She is on her way to get gas before they leave.

I pray with her and tell her I’ll meet them at the hospital later.   I start the prayer chain among our faithful members in this church so small it is like one big family.

I take my son to the Creole Kitchen for breakfast as we had planned where we wait patiently, bantering with the people waiting for their Friday morning beignets.

I remember Jason Wolfe, the youngest ever domino-heart-transplant recipient, whose surgery six years ago was nothing less than a miracle.  I wonder how his parents are doing today.

I pack my glasses and contacts in case my eyes get weary.

I remember Kayla Lovins, the second child in the domino transplant, and imagine her now in first grade.

I write notes for our worship accompanist, and place them at the piano in the sanctuary.

I remember Belinda, my beloved cousin, whose death at age 21 enabled several others lives to go on.  I envision her now with her mother who died just last month.

I print materials I’ll need for a meeting tomorrow with a couple planning to marry next month.

I remember the year that I walked in the Lifeline of Ohio 5K, seeing people all around me wearing shirts that identified them as either recipients, or the family of donors, also known as heroes.

I receive a text saying the surgery will begin at 8:00 pm.

I go to the bank to get cash.

I flash to Bill’s face when I visited him in the hospital last month, marveling at his peaceful demeanor.

I think of the family whose hearts were broken this morning, and think of how their loss is Bill’s gain.  I wrestle with this yet again in my mind.

I think of my doctor, who received the heart of a 42-year-old woman twelve years ago and imagine all the people he helped to heal in the additional 12 years he was given.

I stop to update my BLOG so that I can tell my readers about this miraculous turn of events taking place on this ordinary day and invite them into our story.

Let us pray…that Bill’s new heart will beat long upon this earth,

and for the healing of broken hearts…everywhere.